So She Dances
by Dingbat142001
Summary: Oneshot. …I can't keep on watching forever, I’d give up this view just to tell her… Helo muses on the hanger bay and inadvertidly witnesses Racetrack as he’s never before…HeloRacetrack


**Title: **So She Dances

**Rating:** FRT  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Just the idea.  
**Spoilers:** None  
**Summary**: Oneshot. …I can't keep on watching forever, I'd give up this view just to tell her… Helo muses on the hanger bay and inadvertidly witnesses Racetrack as he's never before…Helo/Racetrack

I adore Helo/Racetrack, and there's not enough out there, so I wrote this.** I know Helo seems rather callous about his relationship with Sharon, but I couldn't exactly come up with a way to get Helo and Racetrack together. Please don't hate me :'(**

Lyrics by Josh Groban: "So She Dances"

**Set during the missing year…

* * *

**

0143 hours in the morning, the hanger bay aboard Galactica is pretty silent. No hustle and bustle of a Cylon attack, no incoming and outgoing birds for CAP, no clanging of the Chief's crew, re-bending and drilling metal back into place.

Yup, silent as a tomb. But tonight, there's something different. Tonight the air feels light. Free from stress. Free from fear. Free from all the things that make life on a Battlestar a nonstop suicide machine.

And I, Lieutenant Karl 'Helo' Agathon, know why.

It's not like I make it a habit of aimlessly walking about the ship at unsightly hours of the night. I only do it when I can't sleep. And like so many nights this past month, tonight is one of those nights.

It's been months since Sharon and I lost Hera. As painful as it is, I can still get on with my day, whereas my better half has refused to see me and all but told me to go to hell.

That was when I started to distance myself. She needs the space.

And that's why I'm sitting in some random Raptor, I think it's Hiccup's but it really doesn't matter. The important thing is that I'm not drowning in a state of depression, and that I've managed to life relatively happy the last few months… despite not seeing Sharon once in the past three weeks.

The break has been good for me. I mean, I miss Sharon like crazy, but now I've gotten back onto a level playing field with the crew. Drinking, Triad, and good ol' fashion comradery is kind of nice again.

So here I sit. In one of the only places I feel comfortable. I don't know how long I've been here, maybe and hour, maybe two, but again, it doesn't really matter.

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

_A waltz when she walks in the room  
She pulls back the hair from her face  
She turns to the window to sway in the moonlight  
Even her shadow has grace_

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

The silence of the hanger bay is welcoming but the harsh clunk of Fleet boots tells me I'm no longer alone.

I stick my head out the Raptor to realize that the lights are now dimmed for night use. I never really noticed before. Around the nose of the Raptor I go. A maybe 5 foot, four inch figure stands in the distance, completely oblivious of her audience of one.

I can't help but watch.

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

_A waltz for the girl out of reach  
She lifts her hands up to the sky  
She moves with the music  
The song is her lover  
The melody's making her cry_

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

I've seen Margaret 'Racetrack' Edmondson at her best, worse, and maybe slightly bit off days. But this by far, tops it off.

Standing in the middle of the hanger bay, florescent lights dancing off her skin. Her dark hair, normally up in a ponytail now slightly ruffled with sleep, cascades past her shoulders to the small of her back. Olive drab BDUs hang from her slim hips, clearly the product of daily fitness routines and strict jogging regiments around the Battlestar. Regulation tanks fit her upper body beautifully, bringing on unbidden thoughts that I really shouldn't be thinking.

If only she'd turn around so I could see her face. But wait. I don't want her to see me, now that she's started to move.

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

_So she dances  
In and out of the crowd like a glance  
This romance is  
From afar calling me silently_

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

It takes me mere seconds to realize that she's dancing. If I had of been thinking I would have asked myself, '_To what?_' but I'm not thinking. I'm watching. And that's when I start to hear it.

An orchestra that can only be heard in the middle of a hanger bay, in the middle of a Battlestar, in the middle of space. The string instruments; the venting system at a steady hum, and the heating elements fading on and off with the fluctuation in temperature, the wind section; the special shifts in the black chasm of nothing, the brass instruments; the constant creek on the hull by the pressures of space, all adding up to a beautiful ensemble, equally matching the sight before me.

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

_A waltz for the chance I should take  
But how will I know where to start?  
She's spinning between constellations and dreams  
Her rhythm is my beating heart_

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

In the most graceful moves I've ever seen since Buck in a Viper, her arms reach for the sky, twirling in and out as if ribbons swirl around her. Her hips begin to move side to side, like a pendulum. Back and forth, back and forth, silently keeping a time all her own.

I'm mesmerized. The faithful partner in me shouldn't be enjoying this, but as a man, I can't deny, we've always had a tension between us.

Maybe in another life…

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

_So she dances  
In and out of the crowd like a glance  
This romance is  
From afar calling me silently_

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

Her hands fall from the sky as they travel down her chest to her hips, then back up to her shoulders, to circle her head.

Those hands I once shook in a moment of renewed friendship when we built the blackbird. That seemed to ignite a slow born, that try as we might, just won't die.

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

_I can't keep on watching forever  
I'd give up this view just to tell her_

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

I duck behind the Raptor just as she twirls about, arching her back, almost making a ninety degree angle between the floor and the lithe body in combat boots.

With every step, every move, every spine chilling flip of her hair, I know I honestly, desperately, unequivocally, shouldn't be watching this. If she found out that I've been watching her rather intimate and personal display, she'd put me up to my knees in floor, whereas, my better half… who has vanished from my mind for a brief few minutes… would surely remove body parts that I've become fond of since puberty. But I am a man, and as I've been reminded by various female, we are all dirty, rotten, filthy, stinking scoundrels who should forever burn in hell.

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

_When I close my eyes I can see  
The spotlights are bright on you and me  
We've got the floor  
And you're in my arms  
How could I ask for more?_

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

Oh, but hell would be so worth this. I watch as her hands come up to caress her sides as a lover would do, and fleetingly flicker back to our short-lived handshake.

As brief and innocent was it was, I still remember the silky soft skin of the back of her hand, and the pilot hardened calluses on her palm. Her hand fit perfectly in mine with it's firm grip yet strictly feminine touch.

What I've shamelessly give for that touch again.

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

_So she dances  
In and out of the crowd like a glance  
This romance is  
From afar calling me silently_

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

I don't know how long I've been standing here, nor do I know how long she's been dancing to her symphony in space. All I know is that it will eventually, unfortunately, come to an end. The Battlestar noises will be just that, noise. The rough metal under our feet will no longer be a stage for one. The profound portrayal that we unknowingly shared will never be brought up. Never to be repeated again, for she is Maggie; beautiful, witty, and never mine, and I am Karl; tortured, Cylon lover, and never hers.

_-o-o-o-o-o-_

_I can't keep on watching forever  
And I'm givin' up this view just to tell her_

_-o-o-o-o-o-

* * *

__**Author's Note:**_ I adore Helo/Racetrack, and there's not enough out there, so I wrote this. 


End file.
